By White Bear Woman

By Richard Carter

I don’t know what got into me. I mean, I like my job, and I like most people, but some . . . it’s like, when they become tourists they leave their brains at home. This lady today, she came off the boat with her bicycle, walking up the middle of the roadway. So I asked her to move over with the foot traffic. Simple. I’m the ferry agent. People are supposed to listen

By John Sangster

from time to time become needy, call out for attention. The stereo drops
the left speaker in mid-song causing Dylan to withdraw even further into
himself. You peek behind the components rack–a hopeless tangle of
wires — tap the side of the preamp: What is it? What do you want?

By John Sangster

Words… once spoken, don’t dissipate, never to be heard from again. Most people
aren’t aware of this. Another thing is that words stick around pretty
close to home. Sure, they might shift about in the breeze, collect up
against the curb (we’re talking sound here, they won’t plug the drain),